


I Wish We Could Play It Safe and Sound

by athletiger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extremis, Extremis - freeform, Extremis Tony Stark, Hurt Tony, M/M, Major Character Injury, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Tony Angst, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 15:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14979656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athletiger/pseuds/athletiger
Summary: Tony gets abducted a hundred and fifty feet away from Steve, a daring move for Tony's abductors.Steve’s not worried that whoever abducted Tony will kill him; he’s too much of a valuable resource for him to be dead. However, every moment Tony is out there there also increases his chances of being hurt. Steve grinds his teeth, internally smacking himself on the head and forcing himself to turn back to the debriefing.He doesn't know what horrors awaits Tony, but every day the Avengers can't find him...well, Steve worries.





	I Wish We Could Play It Safe and Sound

**Author's Note:**

> I've got three inspirations for writing this fic: RowanTree's beautiful picture of Tony on his knees, chained to the floor with the power of Extremis coursing through him; my MCU Kink Bingo prompt for "Secret Relationship;" and Little Mix's "Secret Love Song:" "why can't I kiss you on the dance floor?" Boom, instant inspiration.
> 
> Thank you [ToneeStark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToneeStark) for the beta and [RowanTree](https://rowantreewrites.tumblr.com/) for the lovely picture! Go check these two awesome people out!

 

Tony wakes up to see Steve’s majestic blue eyes staring back at him. There is a small smile that graces his face when they look at each other. Tony gives an answering smile back, sticking out his tongue absentmindedly to lick his lips, a quick dart in and out. The action attracts Steve’s attention: he glances down, entranced, before locking his eyes back up to stare at warm brown ones.

“Good morning,” Steve says, brushing a hand down Tony’s cheek. Tony nuzzles the hand, tilting his head slightly to give it a small kiss. He reaches up to curl his hand around his lover’s. Tony scoots his body closer to Steve’s, pressing their chests together.

“It _is_ a good morning,” Tony replies. Tony’s voice growls in the way that it only can when someone first wakes up, and, in Steve’s opinion, it is very sexy. Steve pecks Tony on his lips, finding comfort and warmth with the genius he holds safely in his arms.

“You ready for the ball tonight?” Steve asks. He strokes Tony’s back and slips a leg between Tony’s thighs. Tony’s cock, already hard from morning wood, jerks when Steve’s leg brushes it. Tony gives a muffled _humph_ and thrusts forward, rubbing himself off on Steve’s leg.

“What ball?” he asks to Steve’s chest, voice stifled, but Steve understands him all the same. “Do I have to go?”

He laughs and tilts Tony’s chin up so that he can kiss his lips again, ignoring the morning breath that lingers. “The Military Ball’s tonight,” Steve mumbles into Tony’s lips. “They’re expecting you, so yes, you must go. Don’t be late, Tony.”

Tony’s eyes are blown when they finally draw away, and he agrees placidly. Steve suspects Tony has no idea what he is agreeing to. That’s okay; Jarvis would remind him. In the meantime, however, Steve flips them over so that Tony is laying flat with his back  on the bed and Steve leans over him, hands on either side of Tony’s body. The blanket that has originally covered them both now slips dangerously low over Steve’s waist, but they ignore it in favor of looking sappily at each other.

Tony giggles, his voice tinkling like winter bells, and Steve grins back, eyes crinkling with love. Tony winks deviously as his hand dips under the blankets to find a certain appendage, stroking Steve’s cock into hardness.

“Come on, soldier,” Tony whispers. “What are you waiting for?”

Steve bends down to kiss him again and complies with Tony’s order.

* * *

 

Tony instinctively seeks out Steve when he walks into the ballroom, absentmindedly fiddling with his cuffs as his eyes graze over the people in the room. He mumbles under his breath, wanting to be home in bed instead, and he spends a moment to be annoyed at Steve for taking advantage of his distracted state this morning to have him promise to be here.

At least the one good thing that comes out from all this pomp and circumstance is the fact that Tony gets to enjoy Steve wearing his army blues.

Everybody is dressed to the nines, and there are many who are dressed in military uniform. However, only one man fits into that uniform like he was made for it. He finds him on the other side of the ballroom talking to someone, and Tony takes a moment to admire his lover from afar. Tony’s eyes trail over the perfect cut of Steve’s uniform, hugging his form perfectly. He pauses for a moment to stare at the pertness of his ass, the blue curving around the rotund muscle in all the right ways. His cock hardens as he continues to stare at Steve’s back before realizing that being hard now would ruin the lines of his pants. He inhales, willing his excited state to disappear.

It takes him thinking about Obi’s nakedness to get it to subside, and Tony shudders slightly at the image. When his cock finally softens, Tony approaches them.

“Cap, General Ross,” Tony greets as he walks up to them.

“Mr. Stark,” General Ross says, shaking Tony’s hand. His voice tinges with slight disdain, but Tony ignores it. Two can always play this game, and they’ve been playing this for a long time, even before the Avengers Initiative had begun. It’s a mutual hatred.

Steve bows his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Tony.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, please do consider my proposal, Captain,” General Ross addresses Steve, turning back to the conversation they were having before Tony’s interruption.

Steve nods, although Tony could see that Steve has already disregarded the whole topic, whatever it was. “Your proposal has been considered. Now, if you’ll please excuse me.”

“Of course. It has been good seeing you again, Captain. Mr. Stark.”

Tony gives a fake grin back, his smile all teeth, predatory like a shark. “Likewise.”

Conversation completed, Steve finally turns to Tony, and he smiles. “Yes?”

Tony grins back, and he is sure that his answering smile is as sappy as he feels. He can’t help it. He grabs Steve’s hand. “I was wondering if you would like to dance with me.”

Steve stops smiling, and Tony frowns slightly in response. He tilts his head in confusion. “Tony...you know we can’t...not here.”

Once those words spills out from Steve’s mouth, it’s like a bucket of ice water that has been dumped over Tony’s head.

 _We...can’t?_ Tony wonders.

Tony gazes into Steve’s eyes, searching, hoping that Steve is only joking, that Steve is just pulling the wool over his eyes, and that he would just laugh it off and tug him towards the middle of the dance floor.

But Steve’s answering stare never wavers, and Tony could feel his heart cracking. Steve is guilty about loving him: a man. This can be the only explanation to which he wouldn’t want to dance with his lover. Tony feels sick, but he loves Steve all the same, and he would do anything for him.

So, Tony musters up a smile despite being hurt, plastering the fake grin on his face and hoping it looks genuine enough to fool Steve. “I understand, Steve. We don’t have to dance.”

Steve’s eyes brighten, clearly missing the fallaciousness of all this. Tony’s heart breaks a little more and his chest squeezes together. “I’ll dance with you at home tonight. We’ll put the records on the turntable and dance around in the living room.”

It’s getting harder and harder to keep the tears and the smile at bay. Tony nods. “Of course Steve. Anything for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to Commander Smith about some designs I’ve been making for him.”

It’s a lame excuse, but Steve doesn’t notice. Steve squeezes his hand gently. “Tonight...I promise.”

Tony doesn’t squeeze back. He just nods once and turns away, dropping his smile and fighting back the tears. He can’t get away from him fast enough. He had thought Steve would be okay with this – their relationship. He has wanted to shout his love for Steve off the rooftops; he _loves_ him with his whole heart and soul.

Why can’t Tony have something good for once?

Tony walks blindly around the happy dancing couples. In his haste to flee, he forgets to keep his guard and awareness up for his surroundings.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark?” A hand touches his arm and catches Tony unaware. He freaks out, jerks, instinctively breaking the hold and lifting his cyborg hand up, repulsor whining in preparation to fire.

Beside him is a young man, probably within his mid-twenties, holding his hands up on either side of his head in surrender. Tony inhales deeply, then huffs, powering down the repulsor and laying his arm back to his side. Even though he doesn’t really want to talk to the man, Tony give him a media-winning smile. “Sorry about that. I don’t do too well with touching.”

The man gives Tony a shaky smile in return. “No, no. It was my fault. I should have announced my presence more. Mike Johnson, at your service.” Mike brings his right hand up towards Tony to shake.

When Tony doesn’t take the proffered hand, Mike’s smile falls slightly, and the hand slowly lowers. However, he perks back up when Tony asks him, “how may I help you?”

“Mr. Stark, I’m currently working on an human-artificial intelligence hybrid project, transferring people’s minds into an android body. I’m really interested in pursuing forward ultimately achieving a future in which the human mind can live on the web. However, I’ve hit a wall; would you please take a look at what I could be doing wrong?”

Even before Mike’s speech is finished, Tony has already tuned him out. He doesn’t want to think about work right now, let alone “human-artificial intelligence.” All he wants to do is go home and wish that can hold a drink in his hand – Steve wouldn’t approve of Tony drinking alcohol, but he has already broken Tony’s heart. What’s more to go all the way in ruining the relationship? Tony’s hand twitches.

“Mr. Stark sir?”

Tony shakes his head. “Not interested, Josh, or Mickey, or whatever your name is–” ignoring the interjection of “Mike, Mr. Stark, sir” “–bioengineering isn’t my field. Go talk to Maya Hansen or something.”

Mike’s face darkens, and it sends a warning chill down Tony’s spine. “Mr. Stark, this isn’t a request. It’s an order for you to come with me.”

Four men built like bodyguards surround Tony. They are far enough away that Tony hasn’t noticed them immediately until Mike orders Tony to follow him, but they are close enough that if Tony tries making a break for it, he would be intercepted by one of the guards.

His guard higher up now, Tony realizes that the four surrounding him are not the only ones there waiting to snatch him up. Tilting his head slightly, he glances from side to side to see that that there are at least four more men farther away. Tony hesitates. There are too many people in the ballroom. It would be bad if he were to try to make his break here, even if most of the people here are not civilian; they are unarmed today. Tony looks back onto the dance floor: Happy is distracted by Pepper, twirling her in his arms and looking at her lovingly and Steve’s back is to him, talking to yet more brass. Not ideal when Tony’s here being abducted in the middle of a gala.

With so many people mingling around, Tony has no choice but to follow Mike. Better to get out in the open where there was a lesser chance of casualty and he can fight back without worrying about collateral damage.

“You know, Mr. Stark,” Mike says casually, as he walks beside Tony like he has a death wish, “I’ve always been interested in the Extremis Project. In fact, I’ve worked with Maya as her assistant. She’s been really helpful in guiding me to become just as successful in the field. And you know?”

Here, Mike stops and faces Tony. “I’m _very_ interested as to how much you can take.”

Before Tony can even decipher the ominous warning, let alone formulate a reply, a sharp pinprick stabs his neck. Tony turns around and swings automatically, uncaring about the casualties, just focusing on getting out of this situation. He fires up his repulsor as he staggers back like he’s drunk, blasting a bodyguard out of the way. Two more replaces the downed guy, and he fights like a cornered animal, dropping his weight to his feet before propelling up and forcing another big guy back using the momentum of his shoulder.

But too many of them surround him, and the drug is running through his veins, making him slower and more drowsy. Tony drops unceremoniously to his knees, unable to keep fighting, and he closes his eyes.

* * *

 

“Have you seen Mr. Stark?” Steve asks Commander Smith.

He had felt that the smile that had graced Tony’s face looked wrong; it looked fake. But Steve doesn’t know what’s wrong. He just wants to protect Tony a little more. Indeed, with them being Iron Man and Captain America, it paints a big red target on both of their backs, but if their enemies knew that Tony Stark is Steve’s boyfriend, they could use that against Captain America. Steve doesn’t know what he would do if Tony got hurt on his watch. No. It’s better to keep him at a distance in public, making sure that they are just friends where the rest of the world could see, so that Tony wouldn’t have even more enemies.

Steve is regretting his decision slightly now. He has to go find Tony before the situation worsens.

Commander Smith shakes his head. “I was supposed to talk to him about the designs he was making for my navy. He had some great ideas to improve the ships’ energy output using his arc reactor technology. Send him my way if you do see him.”

Steve smiles back tightly. “Of course.”

Commander Smith wants to talk to him more, being a war hero and the nation’s idol and all, but a certain distinct whine reaches his ears. Steve instinctively reacts, not bothering to excuse himself. This takes priority. He pushes through the crowds of dancing couples, shoving them out of his way if they didn’t move quickly enough. He ignores the curses that trail in his wake.

“Tony!” Steve shouts, rushing past the doorway. At the end of the hall, he is greeted with the sight of impeccably dressed men, some down on the floor. However, many others are still up and surrounding the fallen figure of Tony Stark.

“Get him out of here,” one of the shorter men says. It is clear that he is the head of this whole operation. Steve chases after them, but there is a dull click when metal hits the ground. He isn’t going to make it in time.

“Grenade!” Steve shouts at the top of his lungs just as the grenade explodes, flashing bright light into the air. Screams from the ballroom fill the air. That combined with the flash bang disorients him, and he frantically blinks the fuzzy after-effects away, continuing to stumble forward in hopes that he can reach Tony in time.

He misses the second canister of sleeping gas.

* * *

 

Tony wakes up abruptly, inadvertently jerking on his bonds. The room is lit only with the light of his arc reactor. He looks down. He is kneeling on the floor, wrists and ankles in metal cuffs, chains going from the cuffs to the floor. The ground is hard and cold, and Tony shivers slightly as the chilly air touches his naked skin.

He is interrupted from cataloguing his situation when the sound of a sliding door opens behind him, and light floods through the open door. There is a long dark shadow that is casted onto the wall, and Tony can see that this prison is shaped like a cylinder. He cranes his neck to look behind, and he growls, pulling roughly on the chains. It hurts, the way the metal digs into his skin, but he has more important things to worry about.

“I see you’re awake and kicking,” Mike says placidly, leaning against the wall of Tony’s prison.

“Whatever you want, you won’t get it,” Tony replies, unfazed with his position.

Mike smiles. The grin looks evil, but Tony doesn’t blink an eye; he has been kidnapped too many times to be scared by the act.

“Oh, Mr. Stark, but that’s where you’re wrong,” he says, pushing away from the wall and crouching in front of him. “I’ve already got what I wanted.”

Mike taps the arc reactor, naked and open in its brilliant glory. Tony flinches instinctively, trying to protect his most vulnerable item, and Mike’s grin grows wider when he doesn’t succeed. “This is such a gorgeous thing. I’ve always wondered how much power it housed, in such a concentrated state.”

Tony growls, leaning forward with the intent to bite Mike, but Mike is wise enough to move back so he is just out of Tony’s reach. Mike barks out a laugh. “And also, Extremis! Maya took it to great lengths, and you helped her complete the idea with your technical acumen! I built upon her knowledge.”

“I’ve actually expanded on her dissertation, and I outgrew her ability,” he boasts. “She was amazing, but she wasn’t ambitious enough, and she knew what I wanted to do. She tried stopping me.”

Mike places his forehead against Tony’s, unfazed by the proximate distance. Tony tries to knock Mike back with his head, but Mike draws away before he could complete the act. “She couldn't stop me. I stopped her instead.”

 _Oh god, he must have killed her._ Tony spares a thought to send Maya his condolences, but he tunes back to hear Mike say, “I’ve always wanted to see how you did it to manage to house so much power and knowledge within yourself.”

“Fuck you,” Tony growls, jerking within his bonds. The cuffs are now slippery with his blood, and the joints feel raw, but Tony refuses to stop bucking, hoping that the chains will eventually break with the force of his tugs.

Mike grins back. “Love to, but you’re...a bit tied up.” He winks before sauntering out. “Welcome to the Johnson Laboratory. Enjoy your stay.”

The doors seals shut behind him with an ominous click, and the room darkens down to the light of his arc reactor again.

Tony tugs on his bonds again, straining hard, but it’s futile. It’s as if the chains are made of vibranium, although the metal doesn’t feel like it. Tony relaxes involuntarily, exhausted and gasping. His wrists and ankles are bloody, but with Extremis coursing through his body, it would heal in a matter of moments.

Tony settles in for a long wait.

* * *

 

“Wake up, Steve.”

It’s as if he is underwater.

“Come on, Steve.”

Steve trudges through the mud, fighting his way back to consciousness.

“Wake up.”

Steve blinks awake, flat on his back with Natasha hovering over him. He groans; it feels like he got hit by a truck. Or like he went five rounds with Thor. Steve’s eyes are gummy, and he reaches up to rub it away. “Nat.”

“SHIELD got called in,” Natasha answers his unspoken question. “I was the closest to you.”

All of a sudden, Steve remembers. He gasps and sits up abruptly, ignoring the dizziness that comes from moving so quickly. He sways for a moment before he gets his bearings back, panting slightly. “Tony. Where is he.”

It’s phrased more like a command rather than a question, but Natasha’s silence is unnerving. Steve holds his breath in fear, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.

“He’s gone. We’ve lost his trail.”

Steve’s stomach falls through the floor. _Shit._

* * *

 

By Tony’s internal clock, fifteen thousand seconds have gone by before the panels behind him slide open again. Tony’s skin has healed; all that is left is the itchiness of dried blood flaking his skin, but Tony can’t scratch it, being chained up like this. Four scientists in pristine white lab coats and clear goggles surround him on all sides.

“Whatever he’s making you do, don’t do it,” Tony warns them. “You won’t win this war.”

It falls on deaf ears. Rather, there are swishing sounds, and Tony looks up and gasps in horror. He’s sure that there is fear in his eyes, and Tony desperately masks it. He’s probably not doing a very good job. There are wires hanging down from the ceiling, and the scientists are grabbing the wires and pulling it down to where Tony is kneeling.

Tony’s mind is working overtime. “Oh, no, no, no,” Tony says desperately, jerking and reopening his wounds again. They ignore him. Instead, they pounce on him like vultures, working quickly to attach him to the wires.

He can’t help it – it’s his last defense. One scientist’s hand goes too close to his mouth, and he leans forward bites down, hard. That finally startles a reaction out of the scientists. The scientist whose wrist he bit down yanks his hand back, cursing and yelling. Tony’s mouth drips with blood, and he watches in grim satisfaction as the scientist cradles his wrist against his chest gingerly. Tony can see the bone peeking out from the wound.

“Fucking hell! He fucking bit me!” The scientist screams and kicks Tony in the chest, hard. Tony rattles in his chains from the force of the kick, and he stops breathing. For a moment, he panics. He feels like he can’t get  breath back into his lungs with the impact from the kick on his arc reactor, but then his chest loosens enough for him to take a small breath again.

“Careful,” the scientist behind him says, and Tony inhales sharply as something cold digs into his back, dangerously close to his spine. “We need the arc reactor to stay functional. Dr. Johnson wants him functional.”

“But he bit me!” the scientist whines.

The one on his right side scoffs. “Serves you right. He’s a cornered animal, desperate to leave this thing. Just bolt his jaw in place.”

Oh no. Tony can’t help but let out a whine. “I’m sorry,” Tony pleads. “I won’t do it again. Don’t...don’t do this.”

But even as he says that, he can see that the scientist in front of him brighten with the idea of pinning his jaw shut. The scientist leaves his field of vision, and Tony renews his attempts of breaking free, letting out a litany of “no’s” from  his mouth.

“Keep him still!” The scientist on his left side commands. There’s a metal strip that goes around his neck, and Tony throws his head back, desperately trying to dislodge the collar around his neck. The collar closes tight at the small of his neck with a “snick,” locking tight and barely giving Tony enough room to breath with the collar around his neck. It presses against his Adam’s apple painfully.

And then he can’t move because they attach chains to the neck collar and pin him down. Tony still strains against the bonds, but they are inflexible. The scientist who he had bitten comes back with a bandage around his wrist and two clamps in his hand.

“No,” Tony breathes despite the pain of the pressure around his neck. He pulls harder, but the clamps just steadily grows closer to Tony’s face. “No!”

The deed is done: the scientist digs a prong into Tony’s right cheek, sending blood spilling out of the open wound, and Tony jerks in panic and desperation. The scientist laughs cruelly, hooking the other end of the prong under the bone of Tony’s jaw, and the hooks lock tight. Tony can’t move his jaw. He whines, the sound coming deep within his chest, and the scientist does the same with other side of his face.

His jaw is shut tightly now. He looks at him with fear in his eyes, and the scientist grins. “Serves you right for biting me.”

There are a lot of open wounds where the scientists are attaching the various wires _into_ Tony’s body, and all he can do is look up or forwards, unmoving, and waiting for the inevitable. When they finish attaching the last wire, Tony can see, out of the corner of his eye, one scientist taking a syringe out from her pocket. The pinprick of the needle is a minor inconvenience compared to the pain that echoes upon the rest of his body. They take a sample of his blood, and the four scientists depart, leaving him alone in the dark again.

Tony fears what will happen when they finally turns on the wires, and the next several moments he awaits in tension.

Tony stares at the darkness of the wall, unable to do anything else. He turns to within, distracting himself from the inevitable pain.

* * *

 

“Tony was abducted at around twenty-three-ten last night by a group of assailants who infiltrated the annual Military Ball,” Steve reports. He is twitchy. He wants to be out looking for Tony; every moment they stay in the SHIELD conference room is one more moment away from Tony’s chances of coming home safe and sound.

Steve’s not worried that whoever abducted Tony will kill him; he’s too much of a valuable resource for him to be dead. However, every moment Tony is out there there also increases his chances of being hurt. Steve grinds his teeth, internally smacking himself on the head and forcing himself to turn back to the debriefing.

“We have identified the main leader of this abduction case,” Natasha reports, swiping the screen right to reveal a picture of the assailants. Steve recognizes the first one: he was the one who commanded the people to get Tony out of the ball. “Dr. Mike Johnson, known as Dr. AI for his work on creating a fusion of humans and artificial intelligence. He worked for Maya Hansen before she died under mysterious circumstances, and he continued his work to connect human intelligence to artificial intelligence.”

“Looking at his dissertations, it seems as if he lacks a vital component to bridge that gap,” Bruce takes over for Natasha smoothly. “He has experience in bioengineering; he lacks the knowledge in electrical engineering and software engineering, both of which Tony is an expert in. It seems perhaps that he had gone to the ball to ask Tony about how he could fix the issue.”

“But, knowing Tony,” Steve says, sighing, “He believes that human intelligence should not go with artificial intelligence. It goes against his principles because it gives too much power to one person.”

Bruce nods.

“Do we know where he is?”

“My sources have not yet found where Dr. Johnson has placed his base,” Natasha reports. She sounds perplexed and frustrated.

“Of course.” What else could Steve expect when they deal with highly intelligent mad men. “Okay, split up. Pull out all the stops. Call in every favor. We’re going to get him back.”

The rest of the room assents. They know the urgency of this, and it’s their teammate.

Steve sighs again, head falling into his hands. He feels guilty because he never gotten a chance to talk to Tony about the time at the ball. It leaves a foul taste in his mouth. Tony must hate him now.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Steve glances up and sees Natasha standing beside him. He gestures vaguely, and she smoothly takes a seat. She grabs one of his hands and cups it between her delicate fingers.

“What’s going on?” Natasha asks. Although she doesn’t seem worried, Steve could see it in her eyes: the slight fear for her friend and the anger that Tony has been kidnapped.

“It’s my fault,” Steve bursts out, his throat burning. His eyes fills with unshed tears. “I told him that we couldn’t dance at the ball, but I wanted to protect him from this exact situation. I wanted him to be safe.”

Steve works to blink back his tears. Natasha is quiet for so long that Steve spends a moment worrying that he broke her.

“It’s not your fault,” Natasha says finally, but she says it with conviction. “You weren’t clear about your intentions, and I can see how Tony may believe that he was only a secret lover. But he really loves you, and he would do anything for you.”

“Pepper and Happy are furious at me for hurting him.”

Natasha strokes a thumb over the back of his hand. “I’ll talk to them. It’s not your fault. You both are two insufferable idiots who don’t know how to communicate properly.”

“If he dies, I don’t know how I’ll live,” Steve whispers thickly. “I should have danced with him. Then this wouldn’t have happened.”

Natasha’s eyes soften. “You’ll get your chance. We’re getting him back. Don’t worry.”

She hugs him when he breaks down in ugly cries, reassuring him that Tony will be back in their lives before they know it.

* * *

 

It happens suddenly.

The wires power up, drawing energy from his whole body. No place on and in his body is spared with the power coursing through him, draining away his life force.

Tony screams behind the metal bolts that holds his mouth shut. He could barely twitch in pain, and his eyes are open, unseeing.

The wires take and take and take, and Extremis continues healing his body. It’s a never ending cycle of injury and healing wounds, giving and taking. The metal pieces that dig into his body shock him every so often so that Extremis could continuously kickstart. But what hurts the most is the plug in the arc reactor. It takes and takes and takes and the arc reactor feeds more and more energy into the wire.

It hurts; it’s hot. Tony feels like a ball of fire – the chilliness of the air is not enough to cool his overheated skin down. The fire rages through him, and then, just as quickly as it started, it ends. Tony slumps in his bonds, letting the chains take the brunt of his weight. He has no energy to do anything when the doors slide open again.

“Not so macho now, aren’t you?” Mike says, ruffling Tony’s hair like a dog. Tony can’t even look up to give him a hateful glare, still catching his breath. “Don’t worry. We’ve got more coming for you.”

A scientist scrabbles forward, pushing his head to the side. Tony placidly lets her do that, not flinching when she sticks the needle in his neck again.

“How did you like that?” Mike says, ignoring the fact that Tony can’t speak. In fact, it seems as if he gets off on it. “You might not be enjoying it, but _I_ am, and that’s what matters, eh?”

Tony finally recovers enough to throw a spiteful glare at Mike. It sends Mike into guffaws. “I see that you still have spirit. We’ll break it out of you soon enough.”

“Good night, Mr. Stark,” Mike says, walking out of the prison. “Sleep tight. Ha! Tight, get it? Because you’re tightly chained to the floor? Or is it morning?”

Tony doesn’t sleep all night.

* * *

 

While they wait for their contacts to provide them even a modicum of information about Tony’s whereabouts, Steve heads down to the gym. He can’t sleep; he wouldn’t be able to sleep with Tony gone. He doesn’t just miss cradling his warm body while they sleep; he already misses Tony’s jokes, his smiles, his love.

He wants to apologize to Tony and dance with him all day and all night. He changes his mind: he wants to announce to the world that Tony is off-limits. Anyone who hurts his Tony has to go through him first. He wants to go out with him, hold his hand in public…

He craves everything Tony, and he never realized it until he was gone.

Steve rubs his eyes roughly, wiping away the errant tears on his face from thinking about what he has lost, and he tries focusing on the punching bag in front of him. He hits it once, watching it swing back from the force of his hit, and then it swings back like a large pendulum. Steve hits it again to avoid being hit by the bag, and all at once, the anger rises like a tsunami from within him. He gives the bag one punch after another, hitting it in a discordant rhythm, fighting back the sadness and focusing on the building emotions within his chest.

With a final punch, Steve sends the bag flying off its hinges, and the sand pours out from its innards. Steve looks down. His knuckles are bloody from punching bare-knuckle, but he savors the pain; it leaks away the anger from within, leaving just barren emptiness.

Natasha’s hands brushes his palms.

“Come on, I’ll fix this for you.”

“Leave it. It’ll heal.”

Natasha gives him a sharp look, and Steve acquiesces, following her to the locker room where the well-stocked medical kit laid out on the bench. She pours antibiotics on the open wound, and Steve hisses when the pain registers, but it doesn’t soothe the ache in his heart. Natasha wraps the wounds with bandages.

Steve thanks her despite feeling the serum kicking in and beginning to heal the wounds already. Natasha nods. “Tony won’t be happy if you don’t take care of yourself,” Natasha chides gently.

“He’s not here,” Steve replies bluntly.

“You know what I mean.”

And Steve does, even if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It would hurt too much if he focused on it. The best thing he could do is find him before Tony could permanently slip away.

That is all he can believe in now.

* * *

 

Tony gets his morning wake-up call with the shock of his life. Literally.

The wires power up, drawing energy from his body like before. It is just as painful as before.

Tony screams and screams and screams.

The pain feels larger than him.

He steadily heats up with the continual usage of him being used as a power source. His skin burns. It hurts to breathe.

And like before, the power cuts out suddenly, leaving Tony breathing harshly through his nose.

“Top of the morning to you, Mr. Stark!” Mike chirps. The scientist draws his blood. He kneels there like a dog. Mike insults him, tells him the latests news. The experiments continue.

Tony doesn’t know how much pain he can take – he is one ball of agony. With every moment longer he stays in this small prison, his will grows weaker and weaker as he is treated like a lab rat, being used as a source of energy. And he doesn’t die.

God, he wants to die, but Mike doesn’t let him. Extremis doesn’t either. He kneels there, unable to move, while the lab gives him the bare necessities to live.

His mind cracks more everyday as they continue to use him, test him, force him to the limits.

Until one day, they overdo it.

* * *

 

It is day twenty when the news comes.

Steve has been sleeping poorly without Tony, but he knows that he needs some sleep to function and fight for him – avenge him. Every day that Natasha shakes her head with no news breaks Steve’s heart a little more. He has faith, but it whittles down everyday. Based on first-hand experience, the longer it takes to find him, the worse of a chance Tony has to come back safe and sound.

“Conference room!” Natasha’s voice sounds over the Avengers Compound’s speakers.

Steve rushes, hoping for better news, impatiently waiting for the other Avengers to stagger in.

“Western quadrant, Russia,” Natasha zooms in the map on the screen. “There has been a surge of electrical power that should not normally be there. My contacts took a closer look, and they found this.”

A second picture appears over the map. “A bunker,” Sam breathes. Natasha nods.

“My sources say that that bunker used to be one of HYDRA’s satellite bases, and it hasn’t been in use for several decades.”

“And you suppose that Tony’s located there?” Steve inquires.

“Based on the dissertations I’ve been evaluating,” Bruce says, “Dr. Johnson is personally invested in finding Extremis’s limits so that he can work on bridging the gap between the intelligences. There is a high probability that the surge of power in the bunker is indeed Tony’s Extremis.”

Steve nods. Even though he wants to go in, guns blazing, there is a small probability that it is a fluke. And if they show their hand too early, they’ll never get Tony back. “Okay. Black Widow, Hawkeye,” Captain America orders, “Recon. Don’t engage. Confirm that Tony is there. We’ll be close if he is there and we need to fight our way in. Falcon, Banner, backup. Don’t Hulk out until I say so. We might need your expertise. Got it?”

All of them acknowledge the orders. “Good. We move out in thirty.”

Natasha stays behind once everyone else leaves. “I have faith that he is there. My sources are trustworthy. We’ll get him back.”

Steve shrugs. “God I hope so. It’s been twenty days too long. It should never have happened.”

“But it did,” Natasha says matter-of-factly. “Accept it, ask for forgiveness and care for him when we get him back. He doesn’t have time for your self-flagellation. You need to give him the time to heal.”

Steve sighs. “Yeah.”

Natasha gives him one last hug before she leaves. “We got this.”

Steve looks at the smiling picture of Tony on the screen. “I’m coming for you. I might be twenty days late, and I’m sorry, but I’m going to be there for you.”

“I won’t dare to leave you behind again. You’re too important to me for me to do that to you.”

“I’m coming,” Steve whispers, taking one last look at the picture before he leaves the conference room.

It is a promise.

* * *

 

Tony doesn’t know what happened, but there is the smell of ozone when Tony inhales that hasn’t been there before. He’s breathing harshly through his nose, grateful for the reprieve of the pain and drawing of energy. His arc reactor flickers in the prison, and Tony worries slightly because it shouldn’t do that.

At the same time, if it _does_ go out, it would allow Tony to flee from this detestable hell. Tony doesn’t know how long he’s been kneeling here, in the dark; all he knows that it’s been longer than five days. Hell, probably more than ten days. Tony’s mind is mostly gone; all he knows is pain and more agony. Down here, all he can do is wait for the next session, wait for the wires to turn back on and take.

Tony closes his eyes for just a moment, but then the wires turn on again, vibrating with energy.

Tony screams.

And he screams.

And screams.

There is no rest for the weary.

* * *

 

It is hard for Natasha and Clint to find an opening to get into the bunker, but somehow they manage to slip in behind a single jeep that enters through bunker doors.

“Alright, we’re in,” Natasha says softly into her comms.

“Recon only,” Steve reminds her.

“You got it Cap,” Clint acknowledges. “Hawkeye out.”

“Widow out.”

The comms cut out, leaving Steve, Sam, and Bruce sitting in the Quinjet in silence. Steve sits for thirty seconds before he can’t take it anymore, He stands up and paces four lengths down the jet, then four paces back up, and back down.

After the twentieth time, Sam barks, “Sit down, Cap! Banner is turning green.”

Steve stills. It would be bad if Bruce hulks out in the jet, so Steve sits.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Bruce insists, breathing heavily in an attempt to calm himself.

Thankfully, at that moment, the comms spark back to life.

“Oh my God, Cap. We found him,” Natasha says. But the words don’t sound comforting. Steve grabs his shield from his seat and hooks it onto his back, racing out of the jet quickly. Bruce and Sam follow him.

“Hawkeye’s on his way back to let you in.”

Clint confirms. “ETA thirty seconds.”

“Understood.”

“Don’t Hulk out, Banner,” Steve warns Bruce. Bruce nods tightly.

“No Hulk, got it.”

The trio break into the bunker as soon as Clint opens the door, already firing down the multitude of soldiers milling around the place.

“Go, go, go!” Steve yells over his comms. He throws his shield in a wide arc, taking seven soldiers out with the one toss before it comes back to him like a boomerang. He decapitates another soldier with the edge of his shield. Beside him, Sam swoops low to take down the soldiers with his wings, firing madly in front of him.

Bruce stands safely behind Steve, and Clint covers both of them, taking out any soldier that dares to sneak behind the two.

“Go, Cap, we got this covered!” Sam shouts. Steve glances at Clint, and Clint nods.

“Go save our teammate, Cap.”

With the badges of approval, Steve races down the corridors with Bruce hot on his heels. Finally, they reach the main room where Natasha has single-handedly taken down most of the scientists. She holds the last, Dr. Johnson, in a headlock. When Dr. Johnson sees Captain America, he grins.

“HYDRA lives,” Dr. Johnson crows. “It always lives. Cut off one head, two more grow in its place. Good luck in getting your boy from the wires. He’s been useful in providing HYDRA its roots to succeed again!”

Steve’s blood boils in anger. Unthinkingly, he reaches out and snaps his neck unceremoniously.

“Steve! We needed him to give us codes to reverse this!” Natasha says.

Steve shakes his head. “He would have given you the kill switch instead. Start working on seeing if you can turn this thing off.”

Steve stumbles to the container that houses Tony, pounding hard on the reinforced glass wall with the edge of his shield. The glass has no chance against his desperation and anger to reach Tony; it shatters to pieces at Steve’s third hit, pieces of glass falling like a waterfall. The glass crunches underfoot when Steve stepps through, arm reaching out for the prisoner.

“Stop!” Bruce yells. “Don’t touch him.”

Steve blinks, stilling and finally taking a good look at Tony. Metal chains grip Tony’s joints like a vice, holding his arms and feet in place.They are chained tightly to the floor so that all Tony could do there is kneel in position, unable to move. His cyborg arm stops at his wrist, the inner wires hanging down and out with nothing attached to it. Two inches above where Tony’s wrist is there are three circular plugs that attach at the base of his arm, wires joining the others into the ceiling.

An electrical plug is hooked into the arc reactor, the wire trailing down in a curve before going up into the ceiling. There are other wires too that surround Tony, and he isn’t just attached to the wires; they dig into his skin like a leech. There are metal hooks born into his skin to hold the wires in place, were Tony to try dislodging them, from his chest, from his one human arm, and from his back. Blood seeps out of the wounds around the metal pieces sluggishly, and the skin around it is bright red with infection.

Tony’s eyes and the arc reactor glow bright blue with pure power, and Steve can see another metal collar digging into the skin of Tony’s neck, metal chain holding his head in place. Steve can hear that Tony is screaming, but his mouth is shut, jaw bolted in place by two metal hooks that has dug into the skin on his face, one side of the hook digging into his cheeks and the other side gripping the bottom of his jaw.

* * *

* * *

He growls loudly. “Oh god, the bastards. Bruce! All of this is hurting him! Turn it off!”

Bruce yells back, “I’m going as fast as I can, but there are so many elements I have to work through! If we shut it all off, we’ll kill him!”

“Is it safe if I touch him?”

“Best not!” Natasha replies. “Right now, he’s a ball of pure power and electricity that’s running this building. It will probably give you the shock of your life if you touch him now!”

Steve’s hands hover over Tony. It is clear that he is not aware of anything besides the pain that courses through him. Still, he has to try to reach through him. “Tony? Tony, if you can hear me, I’m here. It’s Steve. We’re all here to rescue you.”

Tony screams behind his closed mouth, on and on and on, straining in his bonds while the wires draw power from his body. The sound breaks Steve’s heart, and he _needs_ to do something to help alleviate his pain. He could heal from the shock if Tony blasted him.

He touches Tony. There is no shock forthcoming.

Tony is still screaming, but it is slightly quieter, as if he is acknowledging Steve’s warm touch. “Tony,” Steve says, stroking Tony’s human arm,encouraged by Tony’s response to his touch, “It’s Steve. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. We’re working on getting you out of here.”

Tony doesn’t acknowledge the words.

“I’ve got you Tony, I’ve got you.”

Suddenly, the whole building goes dark, including Tony’s eyes and arc reactor. Tony is silent. The next moment, a small ball of light shines in the darkness beside Steve.

“Shit,” Natasha says, coming fast toward where Steve and Tony are located. “We touched something and it turned into the kill switch. We need to get him out.”

Natasha places two fingers on Tony’s neck pulse. “His pulse is beating, but barely.”

Adrenaline courses through Steve, and he snaps the chains that bound Tony to the ground with just his hands as if they were putty. Bruce is cutting the wires rather than pulling out the metal pieces from his skin.

“Hurry, Bruce,” Natasha urges. She checks his eyes. “He’s unresponsive.”

“Working on it.”

Steve gathers Tony into his arms once the last wire is cut, trying not to jostle him more than necessary. Tony’s breaths puff into his neck shallowly and slowly when Steve goes down the corridor. He meets Sam and Clint on the way out.

“How is he?” Clint asks, covering Steve’s front and taking out stray soldiers.

Steve says succinctly, “Alive.”

That is all he could hope for at this point. He is alive, and he is going to be safe. Steve is never letting him go after this.

But Tony isn’t ready for that commitment yet. Steve stops walking abruptly when Tony stops breathing for more than two counts, and he places Tony on the ground. The metal in his back is sure to dig in even deeper, but Steve has greater priorities now. There isn’t any heartbeat.

“Get the AED from the Quinjet, Sam,” Steve orders, trying not to panic as he moves to place his hands on Tony’s still chest. While Bruce and Natasha struggle to dislodge the metal hooks from his face that locked Tony’s jaw together, Steve pushes down over the arc reactor.

“Coming up on thirty, guys,” Steve warns, still pressing down on Tony’s chest.

“I got my side out,” Bruce states.

“Fuck,” Natasha mutters. “It’s lodged in too tightly. Clint, give me one of your electrical arrows.”

Natasha snatches the arrow from Clint’s hand and places it onto Tony’s left breast. It shocks Tony, but Tony still isn’t breathing.

“Steve, replace me.”

Bruce scoots over to press his hands Tony’s chest, Natasha stands up to allow Steve to lean over Tony and bend the metal straight, taking out the hook from his jaw.

“Breathe,” Bruce commands, pausing his presses so that Steve could tilt Tony’s head back and breathe into his mouth. No change.

Sam flies into the bunker with the AED. He opens it roughly and places the pads onto Tony’s chest and waist, doing his best to avoid the pieces of metal embedded in his chest.

“Come on Tony,” Bruce said. “You’ve got Extremis to heal you.”

Sam hands over the defibrillator, and Bruce takes the paddles from his hands. “600 volts,” Bruce says shortly.

“600 volts,” Sam acknowledges. At Bruce’s command of “Clear!” all hands backs away from Tony’s body, and Bruce shocks Tony.

Natasha places her fingers on Tony’s pulse point. “No pulse!”

“700 volts!”

“700.”

“Clear!”

“No pulse!”

Steve holds his breath when Bruce says, “850 volts.”

Sam turns the knob. “850.”

“Come on Tony,” Steve whispers, sending a silent prayer to any deity that would hear him.

“Clear!”

Tony’s eyes fly open, and he gasps, coughing. The arc reactor lights back up. Tony moans incoherently, and he closes his eyes again and stills, unable to tolerate the pain still aching throughout his body.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” Bruce says, shoving the defibrillator back into its bag. “He needs the hospital.”

But Tony’s alive. “I’ve got you,” Steve whispers to Tony’s unconscious face, where the wounds still bleeds sluggishly. The wound isn’t healing as it should, but Tony’s pulse is still here, and that is all Steve cares about. “You’re safe now.”

He repeats it like a mantra, not knowing whether he’s giving Tony comfort or himself a prayer. Most likely both. But they finally make it to the jet. He hears himself distantly say, “Take us out Hawkeye” as he lays Tony on the seats, placing a comforting hand on Tony’s chest.

“I’ve got you.”

* * *

 

Tony wakes up in pain with the bright light overhead. His whole body is in agony. He panics, not comprehending where he is. Tony flails his arms, dislodging the tubes and wires that are taped in place over his body. He distantly hears screams, one long unending wail.

(He doesn’t recognize the voice as his.)

“Fucking hell!” a voice breaks through the screaming noise. “Put him back under!”

“Extremis keeps healing him and breaking down the anesthetic!”

“Then give him more!”

“We’ve already maxed out on giving him the recommended dosage and over too, Dr. Banner.”

“Fuck.”

Hands hold him down, and Tony thrashes in his bonds. He doesn’t know what is going on. There is a figure that enters into his vision, blocking out the halo of the of light. He looks at him in fear.

“Tony? Tony, you’re safe. We’re fixing you up. Here, we’ll give something to sedate you.”

Tony doesn’t understand a word the figure is saying, but there is a cool fluid that flows into his veins, making him drowsy. Tony breathes in behind his mask.

He sleeps.

The next time Tony wakes, the lights have dimmed, and a black figure approaches him. Although Tony looks at the approaching figure in fear, he doesn’t do anything, as the drug that is running through his veins is keeping him pliant.

The figure takes Tony’s limp hand between his own broad ones and the warmth cuts through the coldness of his body. He trusts him, even though he doesn’t recognize him.

Tony closes his eyes with his hand still wrapped between the other figure’s palms.

Tony feels more awake and alert the the next time he wakes up, although he feels a deep, bone-weary exhaustion and weakness. He doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to, so exhausted as he is.

There is a mask that covers the lower half of his face, and an annoying beeping sound rings. Tony rubs his face against his shoulder, trying to dislodge the mask from his mouth. He regrets it a moment later when his jaw gives him an answering ache.

“You’re awake,” someone breathes, and Tony stops moving to look at the person.

Natasha looks like death warmed over, bags under her eyes and her normally impeccable hair unkempt, but she’s giving him a warm smile. Tony doesn’t know if he knows how to smile again, so he twitches his fingers towards her in greeting.

She helps him tilt the bed so that he is sitting up, and helps him remove the mask.

“Here, drink.” Natasha holds a glass of water, bringing it up to Tony’s mouth. She feeds the straw through his lips. “Slowly now. We don’t want you to get sick.”

Tony obeys, and he whines when she takes away the glass, still half full. Natasha gives him a gentle but chiding look, and he quiets. Natasha leans over to pat his hair, his shoulder, his arm, and she fixes the mask back over his face.

“We missed you, Tony.” When Tony shoots her a questioning look, Natasha elaborates, “You were in an old HYDRA bunker, and they were looking for a way to reverse engineer the Extremis program with the arc reactor technology.”

Natasha tells him “Hey, hey, hey, don’t freak out” when Tony’s breath quickens. “You’re safe now. I got their research and destroyed all of them.”

Tony still looks at her in fear, and Natasha chooses to that moment to lean up and kiss Tony on the forehead. “We’ve got you now. You just focus on getting better.”

Steve walks in with coffee and breakfast, and he smiles at Tony. Tony perks up upon seeing him.

“Good morning, Tony,” Steve says, placing the cup and sandwich bag on the couch behind Natasha. He walks forward and places a warm kiss on Tony’s forehead before grabbing his hands that are settled in his lap. Tony is reminded by the warmth from a time before, and he tilts his head up to give Steve a smile, despite the sides of his mouth aching from phantom pain.

It is clearly the right thing to do, because Steve’s grin is happier. Steve brings Tony’s human hand to his lips and kisses it reverently. “I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve says. Tony doesn’t know what Steve is talking about, but Steve continues, “I wanted you to be safe, so I pushed you away that night. I’m not afraid of dating you.”

“It was clearly the wrong thing to do, pushing you away.” Steve’s eyes are filled with tears, and Tony wants to brush them away. But he doesn’t because Tony doesn’t have the strength for it yet.

“I love you, Tony.” Tony’s heart swells, then constricts.

 _What if he’s lying_? Tony wonders, but Steve reaches up to pull down his mask and kiss him deeply on the lips to reiterate his words. Tony stops thinking.

Finally, they pull away and Steve interlaces their fingers together. “I love you, and I promise I won’t ever let you go again,” he promises.

Tony gives him a small smile back.

* * *

 

There is a small box on the dresser, and Steve thinks about it every day as he sits beside Tony’s bed as he recovers. Every day, Steve tells him that he loves Tony with all his heart, that he’s never going to let him go, and he wants him in his life forever.

When Tony goes home, Steve will shout his love from the rooftops. Tony deserves it – he deserves to have something good.

It’s a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> I've also got a [tumblr](https://la-toratempesta.tumblr.com) as well where I post my shorter ficlets there. Come say hi or ask for prompts :)


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